In Sickness And In Health
by synnful
Summary: A few months after the Darkness is released Sam and Dean go to clean up a mess leftover from a recent hunt. The brothers had been arguing lately, tensions high, but their love for each other undeniable. Sam has been hiding a sickness, and it forces itself into the open during a hunt.
1. In Sickness And In Health

Dean's calloused hands wrapped around the steering wheel of the Impala, knuckles turning white from his death grip. The brothers were working a case involving a teenage vampire - a straggler from a case they had worked months ago. The boy must have been changed just a few days prior to the main nest being dismantled, meaning he didn't have anyone to teach him how to hunt, how to hide a body, how to survive his new life. The young vampire was extremely easy to track down. He had been hiding in a dense forest, using a hiking trail as his own personal buffet, his body count totaling to over fifteen (thirty two if you include the victims who had been drugged unconscious and found nearly drained, but still alive). The pair had been arguing the past few days over minuscule nonsense. Dean felt as if Sam was hiding something from him, and Sam immediately took the defensive. Even now, sitting in the Impala, Sam sat in the passenger seat completely twisted around so that he was facing the window. His pose looked painful, and it seemed as if he wanted it to be clear that he was trying to ignore his brother. Dean loved his brother with all his heart, and he knew Sam felt the same way. Fuck, they were both willing to die for each other. In fact, they had on more than one occasion. Dean couldn't articulate the reason why he got so short with Sam sometimes, but deep down he knew it was his own shit that he was projecting onto his brother.

Dean let out an annoyed sigh, glancing at Sam. "Sam, you know that I... when you get like this I... I'm just not sure - " Dean struggled to find the right words to explain his feelings. He ran a hand through his hair before slamming his fist into the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. His brother jumped up, surprised by the sudden noise, and Dean gave him an apologetic look. Sam looked down at his lap, his soft brown hair falling into his eyes. The younger of the pair had a pained expression on his face, right arm wrapped protectively across his abdomen. "Dean," he started, looking his brother in the eyes. Dean looked away in embarrassment about his sudden outburst, "I'm not mad at you. We have some things we need to work on but we can discuss that later. We have a case to work and people to save... That's all that matters right now." He tried to give his older brother a reassuring smile, but he just looked weak. Dean felt a twinge of guilt in his heart, chalking Sam's defensive words and pose up to emotional turmoil and general disappointment with him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to his brother, hold him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But he was a Winchester, and not only do Winchesters never show weakness, they also don't taint their family name by holding each other close, sharing words and skin that they were taught is only meant to be shared with someone of the opposite sex.

It had been almost six months since the pair furthered their relationship. Dean had just been relieved of the mark of Cain, his feelings for Amara making him confused and scared, but also excited and more alive than he'd felt in years. After their experience in Lucifer's cage both men were down for the count. Sam's mind was beginning to crack, flashbacks racing through his brain faster than he could comprehend. Dean was physically beaten and bloody, body aching and head on fire. As soon as they returned to the bunker it was as if a switch had flipped. They were in the Impala, hips grinding, lips and tongues sloppily smashing against each other in a fit of passion. Deans heart was pounding in his chest, his mind wrapped up in an inner conflict - _he's your brother, what the fuck is wrong with you, you're disgusting and your dad is rolling in his grave._ The thoughts seems to egg him on, another chance to prove his dad wrong - _you love him, your lives have never been and will never be normal, so what if society sees this as taboo? They think monsters are creations of fairytales and they all praise a god that abandoned them... he's mine and I am his._ Heat, comfort, ecstasy, and a shared orgasm... Ever since that day their relationship had changed. Their love had matured, and now they shared a bed.

As the Impala pulled up to the gravel parking lot of the hiking trail Dean shut off his headlights, hoping to remain hidden. Vampires have excellent senses, meaning the young vamp they were hunting would likely be able to detect them from five miles away, but the brothers still wanted to attempt to stay hidden in the darkness. Both men silently got out of the car, flinching at the ancient creaking of the Impala's metal doors. They mentally prepared themselves for the fight that quickly approached. Dean opened the trunk, handed a machete to Sam and placed his silver and white handgun in his waistband. He gave a look to Sam, nodded briskly, and began to stalk off into the woods. He and his brother had been staring at a map of these woods for days, their course etched into their minds. They made their way down the trail, coming up on the location that they determined was the epicenter of the vampire's killings. Dean took out the map and a flashlight, turning around towards Sam so they could look over their plan one more time.

Sam had fallen back quite a distance. He was still shuffling along but his arm was still wrapped around his stomach. Dean frowned, waiting for his brother to catch up. "Are you alright?" he asked, trying to distinguish the look his brother was giving him. Sam swallowed hard, "yeah I'm fine, let's just get this done." His words were thick, his skin pale, but he looked determined. The older brother could have sworn he saw Sam flinch, covering it up by pretending he was fussing with the zipper on his jacket. Dean hesitated for a moment but he eventually gave in and unfurled the map. "The sonofabitch should be right up ahead," he began, shining the flashlight on a large X on the map. "We'll try to take him by surprise." Dean shined the flashlight at Sam's face. "... You mean like this?" He heard an unfamiliar voice drawl. Dean jumped, startled, and shined his light over Sam's shoulder. The young vampire smirked, fangs unsheathed. He grabbed Sam by the waist, claws digging into the young hunter's skin, and flung him towards the nearest tree with ease. The younger man let out a yelp, his head banging against the trunk loudly. Deans face confronted with rage, his right hand gripping the handle of his machete.

As Dean had expected, the young vamp wasn't well trained and clearly wasn't experienced with combat. "Oh you fucking _bitch_ ," Dean hissed, glancing at his brother, anger bubbling in his stomach. He took a few steps towards the vamp, whose pale hands were stretched out, a dark grin on his face, fangs twinkling from the light coming from the flashlight on the ground. Sam began to recover, pulling himself up slowly, hand gripping his injured head. Seeing that his brother was stirring and alright, Dean threw a fake punch with his left hand at the young vamp's face, causing his hands to fly up to defend himself. Dean took that moment to strike, quickly slashing across the vampire's stomach with his blade. The young monster's face turned white, his expression one of shock and pain. He looked down, watching as his intestines began to spill from his body. His hands shakily tried to press his entrails back inside, blood spilling onto the ground in crimson waves. Dean quickly raised his arm, bringing it down quickly upon the vampire's neck, chopping his head clean off. The older hunter smirked, wiping his blade off on his jeans.

He turned to look at Sam, raking his brain for a good pun, but when he caught sight of his brother his heart jumped into his throat. Sam was doubled over next to a tree, his body leaning against the trunk heavily. His right arm was wrapped around it, hanging on for dear life, while his left hand was braced against his knee. Sam made a horrible sound, a cross between a gag and a choke. He gasped for air, pitching forward involuntarily, a small stream of watery vomit burning his throat as it exited his mouth along with a painful retch. Dean sprinted to his brothers side, one hand grasping his brothers shoulder to stop him from collapsing, and the other gently rubbing his back, unsure of how else to help. Sam's legs buckled and he fell to the ground to his knees, his left hand breaking his fall. "F-Fuck," Sam spluttered, hands gripping the dirt and moss. "Woah, easy there!" Dean followed his brother to the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam involuntarily heaved forward again, this time bringing up a steady stream of semi digested coffee and water. He hungrily swallowed air, vomited again, and let out a choked off sob. Tears stung his eyes, wetting his face and making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sam spit on the ground, saliva clinging from his bottom lip in a long string, gagging again at the thought of what had just happened. The sound of the vampire's intestines hitting the ground echoed in his head, causing Sam to repeatedly dry heave while Dean frantically wracked his brain, how could he make this stop?! The younger man fell backwards onto his ass, ignoring the fact that he felt the damp dirt soaking into his pants.

Dean immediately cupped his brothers cheeks, wiping away his tears and assessing him for injuries. His head was bleeding, would likely need a few stitches, but it didn't seem severe enough to cause vertigo or vomiting. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it against Sam's wound. He flinched but raised a shaky hand to keep it in place. "What happened?" Dean pried, a bit harder than he had intended, instinctually going over Sam's body with his hands, looking for broken bones or blood. Sam groaned, both because he felt sick and because Dean had found him out. He screwed his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "That whole scene just made me feel sick, Dean, that's it," he nearly whispered, his body convulsed to the right, attempting to gag, but Sam stifled it. "I couldn't handle him.. him being... his injuries," Sam said miserably, trying to find a way to explain the situation without needing to utter the words 'intestines,' 'blood,' or 'beheading.' He curled into a tight ball, leaning his head against his knees. While this hunt had been particularly brutal, Sam notoriously had a stomach of steel, much more sturdy than even Dean's. In fact, Sam is usually the one to go rooting inside dead bodies while they're investigating at the morgue. It was very uncharacteristic of Sam to get sick so violently due to a disemboweled vamp. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to gag every now and then when coming face to face with the scent of decaying flesh, or when walking away from a hunt covered in blood that doesn't belong to you, but as far as Dean could remember neither of them had ever been made sick like this on a hunt. His younger brother, serial killer fanatic, getting so sick over some blood and guts?

"How long have you felt this way? Was it just a random wave of nausea?" Dean asked quickly, hands cupping Sam's face again, eyes filled with concern and unease. Sam's skin was pale, too pale. The younger man pulled a shaky hand through his hair, clammy palm making his strands stick up instead of smoothing them back. Dean began convincing himself that Sam's mind had finally broken, leaving his soul shattered and bruised. "I don't know... I guess I've felt off for a few days... It's just a headache and nausea... I'm fine Dean, really." Dean wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Have you eaten today?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Now that he thought about it he hadn't seen Sam eat in almost two days. Sam shook his head. " _Fuck_ , Sam," Dean's face reddened, anger growing in his chest - but not at his sick brother, at himself. Dean had been so preoccupied with his own feelings and turmoil that he had been neglecting Sam, assuming he was taking care of himself since he's always been the more health conscious of the two. "Was this the first time you threw up?" Dean gently reached his hand up to Sam's forehead, feeling the immense heat radiating off of him. He winced, and Sam turned his head away from his brother, covering his face with his hands. "I've been throwing up since yesterday," he admitted, wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment. Sam was never one to complain when he was sick, probably because their dad would tell him to suck it up and deal with it like a man. Even now when he gets sick he feels ashamed to admit it. Dean felt another pang in his heart, wondering how he could have missed Sam vomiting for an entire day. But with that admission the gears in Dean's head began to click into place. Sam's distant behavior, disappearing into far off wings of the bunker, the way he was sitting in the Impala, falling behind while they hiked to find the vampire... It all made sense. Sam hadn't been upset with Dean, he was sick and trying to hide it.

Dean nodded slowly. "It's alright Sam, everyone gets sick. I'm going to take care of you," he cooed, gently wrapping his arm under Sam's armpit, prepared to help the larger man up. "Come on Samsquatch, we can't sit in this dirt all night." Dean helped Sam up, purposely navigating his brother away from the body on the ground, hoping to avoid round two of Sam getting sick. The hunters made their way down the trail, making it to the Impala without incident. Dean helped Sam into the car, strapping him in and planting a small kiss onto his brother's hot forehead. The fact that Sam had been hiding his illness made the elder hunter a bit pissed, especially considering that his younger brother was well aware of the fact that hiding a sickness or injury could get them killed during a hunt, but he decided to save that lecture for when Sam felt better. Dean slid into the drivers seat, revving his car into action. "Don't worry Sam, we'll be home soon," assuring both himself and his brother that everything would be okay.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sam fell asleep quite quickly, but it was clear that it wasn't restful. Sweat seemed to pool off of him, his grey face pressed against the window. His head wound was steadily dripping blood, but not at an alarming rate. Dean began to grow even more worried for his kid brother, and considered stopping at a motel for the night, but they were only a few hours from the bunker. It could wait until they were able to sterilize their tools. After about an hour and a half Sam began to stir. He grimaced, a low, sick groan escaping his lips. Sam blinked his eyes open, looking to his brother. His eyes were red and glazed over, dark circles accentuating his hazel irises. "Dean..." he moaned, breath hitching in his throat, "Gonna be sick..." he slid upwards in his seat, pushing himself into a proper sitting position, hand pressed against his mouth. They were going 80 on the highway, no median or shoulders in sight. Dean had prepared for this. After his bout of smiting sickness a few months before he still had a small garbage can and bags in the back seat. He had put one together shortly before they got back on the road. Dean hastily grabbed the small can from the back seat, thrusting it into Sam's hands. He promptly dry heaved into the bag, swallowing thickly. "D-Dean... I d-don't want to..." he cried, clearly holding back the vomit that was attempting to surface.

Dean looked at this brother, giving him an encouraging look. "I know baby, but you need to. You'll feel better. I'd pull over and help you if I could but there's a lot of cars and no where to pull off to," he explained, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on Sam's shoulder. Sam let out a silent sob, gagging over the basket, a small dribble of vomit hitting the bottom of the bag. Sam had enough time to gasp for air a few times before the next round of heaving began, his stomach painfully spasmed, violently sending up a wave of vomit. "There you go... Just let it happen... You'll feel better soon..." Dean promised, gripping his shoulder reassuringly. The sound of his brother throwing up made his stomach flip and his mouth water, and for a brief moment he thought he might get sick himself, but he held himself together. He'd always been a sympathy puker. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. As if Sam could read his mind he retched again, another wave of vomit splattering into the bag.

Up ahead the highway split into three lanes, a shoulder appearing on the right. Dean sighed, relieved. He slowly pulled over, turning to face Sam. He looked terrible. His face was sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and blood. He was shaking and looked too thin for his height. The smell in the car almost made Dean gag. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, rolling down the window. Sam quickly opened the car door, swinging his legs out, his head practically between his thighs. He dry heaved a few more times, stomach now totally empty. Dean gave him a few moments to compose himself, "alright Sam, are you done...?" He asked patiently, not wanting Sam to feel rushed. Sam's eyes were squeezed closed, a hand shakily being dragged across his face. He nodded, scared that if he opened his mouth to talk he'd get sick again. "Okay, that's good," Dean said gently. He helped Sam back into his seat, reaching out to touch Sam's face, trying to smooth back his damp hair, "are you feeling any better?" He searched his younger brother's face. Sam hesitated but eventually nodded. Dean reached over and took the basket from him, it was at least half way full. The way it sloshed made the back of his neck break out in a sweat. He opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air, appreciating the change of scenery (and smell). Instead of risking getting sick himself Dean pulled the entire bag from the basket and threw it off into the grass, environmental protection be damned. He made his way back to the car, opening another bag and placing it in the basket. He sat back behind the wheel and placed the basket in Sam's lap. Dean slowly slid across the bench seat, water bottle in hand. "I need you to drink some of this for me," he said lightly, taking off the lid and handing the bottle to Sam. He whined, giving a desperate look to Dean. "Please... I-I don't want t-to... I'll j-just throw it up..." Sam pleaded, so dehydrated that his eyes couldn't even form tears. "Sammy, just humor me and drink a little bit. If you do throw up again it'll be more painful if you have nothing in your stomach," Dean ran his hand down Sam's neck, wrapping his arms around his younger brothers shoulders and pulling him into an embrace.

Sam obliged, slumping down in his seat, allowing Dean to hold him. He felt small and childish but Dean's arms always made him feel safe. He took a few sips of water and then handed it to his older brother to put the cover back on. Dean rested his chin on the top of Sam's head, closing his eyes and wishing for them to magically appear home. He willed it, he begged and pleaded, but when he opened his eyes they were still in the Impala on the side of the highway. Dean sighed, letting go of his grip on Sam. "Don't worry baby, we'll be home soon," Dean kissed Sam's lips gently, not giving a shit about his sickness. He started up his car again, pulling back onto the highway, determined to get home so his brother could rest.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They arrived at the bunker about an hour later. Sam had slept uneasily for the rest of the car ride, but he managed to make it without getting sick again. Dean parked the Impala and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He was exhausted, unsure if the heavy feeling in his stomach was out of sympathy or if he was catching the same bug Sam had come down with. He silently moaned to himself, rolling his eyes deep into his head. He lifted up his head, looking wearily at Sam. He reached out for the young hunter's arm, giving it a slight tug. "Come on Sammy, we're home," he said slowly, watching as Sam began to shift in his seat. He was too weak to open his door and stand so Dean helped pull him out of the driver's side door. Sam leaned against his brother heavily, trying as hard as he could to stay upright. The pair made their way to the garage door, stepping into a hallway in the bunker. "Dean.. Bathroom... Now..." he was able to squeak out before flinging a hand over his mouth. But it was no use, all the water he had drank in the car made a painful reappearance. Sam doubled over, vomit spraying between his fingers, splattering onto the hallway floor. " _Shit shit shit_ , alright Sammy, hold on," Dean said frantically, sprinting into the nearest room to grab a garbage can. By the time he made it back to Sam he had already vomited again on the floor. Sam had sank down the wall, sitting on the ground. He was slumped to the right, and he was throwing up between his hands. Luckily he was only throwing up water so the scene wasn't too gnarly, otherwise Dean would have gotten sick as well. He gave his twisting stomach a light rub, reminding himself that Sam needed his help more than he needed a toilet.

Dean thrusted the basket into Sam's hands, wincing at the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of the metal can. Dean couldn't hold it anymore, he was going to be sick. "Be right back, Sam, need to get some things," he said briskly, speed walking to the furthest bathroom he could make it to, hoping to avoid Sam hearing anything. He burst into the room, falling to his knees in front of the first toilet he saw. He gagged emptily over the bowl for almost five minutes, willing his body to get it over with so he could return to his brother who was actually sick. He got out a small bit of bile but his stomach seemed to quit after that, leaving a heavy sick feeling in his abdomen. Dean groaned, considered sticking his fingers down his throat, but then he remembered that Sam was hunched over in the hallway covered in his own vomit. Dean reached up and flushed the toilet, drying his tears on his elbow. The older hunter clambered to his feet, remembered the lie he told Sam about getting supplies, and made a quick pit stop in his room to grab the first aid kit and a blanket. He made his way back to Sam, hunching down next to his huddled form. "It's alright, Sammy, I'm here," he coddled him, reaching for his face for the fourth time that night. Sam looked up at him with weary eyes, seemingly slipping in and out of consciousness. "D'n?" he slurred, a drip of blood hitting the ground, "I don't feel good," he stated matter-of-factly as if Dean hadn't been there to witness the whole ordeal.

Seeing his brother in this state, sick and bleeding, opened the flood gates within Dean. "I know, I'm so sorry baby, I'm sorry I had to leave you like this, I'm sorry for all the fucking stupid shit I put you through, I'm sorry for what I did to you when I turned from the mark -" Dean let out a sob, tears spilling over onto his cheeks, unsure why he felt the sudden need to confess to his brother. Later, Dean would chalk it up the beginning of a fever. "I'm so fucking sorry Sammy, _goddamnit_ ," he punched the wall, the skin on his knuckles tearing, blood began to spill onto his hand. "I promise I'll never hurt you again, I'll never let you hurt again," the hunter said, a bit more loudly than he had intended. "But right now we need to fix you up," his voice was suddenly low and soft. Dean glanced over his shoulder, taking in the mess his brother had made on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, making a silent promise to clean it in the morning. He helped Sam pull the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled his younger brother to his feet. The younger of the pair was out of it, unaware of anything that was happening around him. Dean made his way to their shared room, gently placing Sam on the bed. "This is going to hurt, baby, but I need to patch you up," he cooed, hands rooting through the first aid kit.

Sam's hand was covered in vomit. He withdrew some purell from the pack, slathering it over Sam's arm and his own hands until he was satisfied. Dean flinched at the stinging pain of the purell sinking into his swollen knuckles. He made a mental note to take a warm bath with Sam once they both got some rest. He withdrew a pre threaded sterile needle, preparing to stitch Sam's head wound. He pushed Sam's hair back, cleaning up his forehead with an alcohol wipe. His cut was red and angry, but the blood had began to coagulate. While Dean was happy that the cut was closing on it's own, that wasn't good news considering the wound needed to be clean in order to stitch it. He winced, pressing the alcohol pad into the wound out of necessity to free any dried blood. Sam gasped in pain, forced back into reality, eyes shooting open with shock. "I know baby, I know, but please stay still!" Dean grabbed Sam's arm before it reached up to his head. Sam made eye contact with Dean, giving him a knowing stare.

Dean nodded, continuing the job. The cut was clean so he began stitching, making five stitches in total. He knotted them off and threw the needle into the garbage. The hunter wasn't worried about his sliced knuckles or his roiling stomach, all that mattered was his Sam. He reached over and pressed the back of his hand to his brother's forehead, attempting to gauge how bad his fever was. Heat radiated off of his, causing him to shiver and shake as cold sweats wracked his body. He groped around in the first aid kit, looking for some Tylenol and anti nausea medication. He took a few pills himself, swallowing them down without water. He grimaced but he was alright. Dean slid his hand under Sam's neck, lifting him up so he could swallow his medication properly. "Baby, I need you to take these pills, you're getting too warm," he placed the small pills into his brother's hand, holding up the water bottle for him to take. The younger man did as he was told, stomach loudly growing as the water began to fill his empty stomach. Dean made his way over to his dresser, quickly peeling off his dirty clothes and putting on a shirt, not bothering to put on any pants - boxers would have to do. He grabbed a shirt and sweatpants for Sam. He walked back over to Sam, letting his fingertips linger over his cheek. "Lets get you out of those clothes," he said gently, helping his brother remove his soiled shirt and pants, quickly replacing them with the clean pajamas. "I'm sorry, Dean..." Sam whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm sorry I made a mess." Dean frowned, sitting next to his sick brother. "Sammy, it isn't your fault. Accidents happen. I'm just worried about you, you haven't been sick like this in a long time." Sam dried his tears, fever bleary eyes puffy and aching.

Sam gently took Dean's hand into his own, rolling over onto his side so he could attempt to sleep. The older hunter sighed, grabbing a fresh garbage can from another room to place underneath Sam so he wouldn't need to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night if he got sick again. He placed it next to Sam's side of the bed, and then crawled under the blanket next to his brother. He rubbed his younger brother's back with his injured hand, wishing he could take his pain away, even if it meant bearing it all on his own. "I love you, Sammy..." he muttered, pressing his lips against his lover's hair, "I just want you to know that." He blinked a tear from his eye, allowing himself to succumb to dreamless sleep.


	2. I Will Shelter You

Dean had woken up at 3:37 am. When he opened his eyes he found his face buried in Sam's hair. Pieces of hair were stuck to his lips and it took him a few moments to battle his way out of his brother's long chestnut strands. He rolled over onto his back, closing his eyes and attempting to fall back to sleep. Switching positions seemed to make his stomach angry, an uncomfortable grumble reminding him that he was sick. He lifted up a hand and placed it over his eyes, scrubbing it over his face. Dean peered over at Sam. He was finally sleeping soundly and he wasn't due to take his next dose of Tylenol for another two hours. He sighed, turning over on his other side, facing the wall. His mouth started watering and a cold sweat began to breakout over his body. He knew what was going to come next. Dean got up as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up Sam. He tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying to get to the furthest bathroom he could to avoid Sam hearing him, again. He made it two right turns, one left, and five hallways. Dean hastily entered the multi stall bathroom, locked the door behind him, and chose the largest stall all the way at the end of the row. He got on his knees in front of the toilet, lifting the lid and waiting for the inevitable. After a few minutes he felt the bile starting to rise in his throat. He positioned himself over the toilet, eyes squeezed shut as the dry heaves and coughs wracked his body. He was finally able to bring up a dribble of bile, his eyes burning with tears, hands gripping the sides of the bowl. His stomach allowed him to have a few seconds to breathe before it spasmed, making Dean pitch forward and expel a stream of vomit. He continued to gag for a few more moments until his brain realized that there was nothing left to bring up.

Once he was done he rested his head on his arm across the toilet, eyes closed. He drifted between sleep and consciousness. As he rested memories began to wander back to the night they admitted their true feelings for each other. They had just taken a long and silent car ride home after escaping from Lucifer's cage. Sam's mind was swirling with anger and depression - having all of his biggest fuck ups played back before his eyes left him guilty and cracked. Dean had been beaten, his mouth tasted like rust and he had black spots in his vision. Both boys desperately longed for comfort, familiarity. Dean had parked the Impala in the garage and they had both made their way to the library, looking to dredge up some information on the Darkness. They were hopeless and empty. Sam had stepped into the bunker and stopped next to a large bookcase, leaning against it heavily. He rested his head against his arm, braced on the hard cherrywood. Dean came up from behind him, stopping in his tracks a few feet from his brother. He looked at Sam, confused as to why he paused, but that confusion quickly morphed to panic. No matter the situation, Dean's mind always automatically assumes there's something terribly wrong whenever Sam does something out of the ordinary. Did he not drink coffee that morning? Must be anxious. Did he go to sleep early? Must have a migraine, must be having visions again. Does he have a cough? That's it, Sammy has the black plague. Dean walked up to his brother cautiously, their nerves were shot and he didn't want to scare him. As he slowly approached he saw Sam's shoulders flinch. Was he... crying? Dean grabbed his brother's elbow, spinning him around. Sam immediately covered his face with his hands, sobbing and sniffling. Dean's heart broke.

At first he couldn't talk, his throat felt dry and his tongue wouldn't move. And either way, even if his mouth would listen to his brain and talk, what would he say? 'What's wrong'? What kind of fucking stupid question would that be? He knew damn well what was wrong. And he also knew that Winchesters didn't cry. Not in front of people at least. The fact that Sam was crying in front of him meant that this was serious, and he didn't want to embarrass his brother further by prying. Instead he pulled Sam close, letting him cry in his arms. They stayed like that for at least ten minutes. He sounded so hurt; so broken and desperate that Dean found himself starting to tear up. Sam cried until he was hyperventilating. Dean rubbed his eyes before taking a step back, holding both of Sam's shoulders. "Everything is going to be okay. I mean that. We're going to figure this out, and we're going to send that bitch back where she belongs," Dean nodded briskly, touching Sam's cheek. "But you need to breathe. You're going to make yourself sick," hearing Dean's words seemed to make Sam calm down. He took a few deep breaths, drying his eyes on his sleeves. While Sam was bigger than Dean, in this moment he looked small, almost like he was trying to curl up into himself. He looked at his older brother, his red eyes wide and puppy like. Suddenly he closed the space between them, pressing his lips against Dean's. Dean threw his hands up in the air on both sides of his head, stereotypical "caught red handed" gesture. He pulled his head back as if he had been punched, hand clasped over his mouth as he recoiled, confused eyes meeting Sam's. Sam was shocked and embarrassed. "D-Dean - I didn't mean to - Please don't be mad!" He stammered, taking a step towards his brother who immediately took another step back. "I-I thought you felt the same way!" Sam practically sobbed, starting to take another step but stopping himself, his hand reaching out to his brother.

Dean just stood there, frozen, fingers touching his lips. His eyes were opened so wide Sam thought his eyes might pop out of his head. He didn't know what to do. His mind was screaming at him, so many thoughts confusing him that he felt like he needed to just run. "Sam." Dean said harshly, raising his hands out in front of him, "I just need a second to think." As soon as he got his last word out he practically sprinted out of the room back to the safety of the Impala. He sunk into the drivers seat, anger and uncertainty bubbling up in his chest. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run back inside, apologize to Sam, hold him close and let his lips press against his own... NO! He's your fucking brother! Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fists into his eye sockets. Oh shut the fuck up, you know how you feel about him. You know what you think about before you go to bed at night. You know what you what. And now he did scream. He yelled until his throat burned. He cursed. He yelled at himself, he yelled at his dad, and he yelled at God for the circumstance he put them in. Why did we have to be related?! Is this a sick fucking joke?! Why?! Did he even believe in God? In this moment he did. He needed someone to blame. Dean punched the seat, finally beginning to calm down. He cleared his throat. Dean knew that he felt the same way. In fact, he probably felt more for Sam than Sam felt for him. It was always his job to take care of his younger brother. He always had an insatiable love for him, even when Sam was rebelling, convinced he wanted to leave his family in the dust.

Dean gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands, pressing his forehead against his knuckles. He felt nauseous and torn. Panic started swirling in his head and he began hyperventilating. He wheezed and spluttered, feeling like his heart was going to give out at any second. And just when he needed him most, he felt Sam's hand grip the back of his neck. Dean's head shot up, turning to look at his brother, and at that moment he realized that he was crying. Sam wiped his face with his free hand, letting his fingertips gently rub against Dean's cheek. "I'm here. This is all that matters," Sam murmured, his eyes soft and prying, searching the older hunter's face for any sign of consent. He said his words with such certainty. Dean imagined that Sam likely repeatedly echoed that statement in his head, his daily mantra. Dean made up his mind. He reached out and grabbed Sam's face with both hands, pulling him in to a deep kiss. He moved over to the passenger seat, pulling Sam inside the Impala. Sam wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, pulling him practically into his lap. Sam was turned completely towards Dean, his right leg bent up on the seat, sitting on top of his foot, and his left foot was on the floor. Dean was on his knees on the seat, over Sam's thighs, his chest pressed against Sam's. The younger hunter was being so gentle and it made Dean feel more vulnerable than he already had. After everything they had been through, all the pain and suffering, it isn't too far fetched to have seen this coming. They yearned to have someone to hold at night. They needed someone to understand, but no one did, and no one else could, except for each other. Dean felt as if he was on the brink of a mental breakdown, but Sam was acting as his glue. Was it a healthy way to feel? Being so dependent on someone? No. But nothing in their lives were healthy. What's one more bad habit.

Dean slipped his tongue into Sam's mouth, running a hand over his clavicle. Sam broke the kiss, slowly removing his jacket and shirt, half way expecting Dean to stop him. But he didn't, and he began undressing as well. Considering the sheer size of the pair undressing in such a closed space was difficult, but they didn't give a fuck. They piled everything in the corner of the passenger seat and Sam grabbed the lever under the driver's seat to push the bench as far back as it went. He pressed his back against the door and Dean slid between his thighs, legs bent around Sam's torso. The younger hunter slid his hands up Dean's back, making him shiver. He pulled back slightly, another wave of guilt tugging at his heart. He scrubbed his face with his hand, trying to ignore the undeniable stiffness of his dick under his boxers. "Sam..." he murmured so low that his brother could barely hear him, "I don't know if this is the right thing to do..." He looked down at his hands, happening to see Sam's hard cock peeking through the elastic of his boxers. His breath caught in his throat. Sam lifted Dean's chin up so they were making eye contact. "Please, Dean... Trust me." He ran a hand through the older man's hair, his other hand rubbing his side. Dean nodded briefly, moving up back to Sam. They joined lips again, but this time Sam had a plan. His hand slid down from Dean's neck, trailing down his chest to his hips. He traced a finger over the band of Dean's boxers, smirking when Dean made a barely audible moan. Sam began to pull Dean's boxers down, but Dean stopped him and pulled them all the way down himself, discarding them with the rest of their clothes. Sam did the same. Dean wasn't sure what to do. He had never actually been with a man before, and while he knew what men liked, he wasn't sure where to start. He paused for a moment, but then began to slink down on the floor onto his knees. As if Sam was reading Dean's thoughts he gripped his shoulder. "Don't worry Dean, you don't need to do that." He began to pull his older brother back into the seat, "I want you to feel good, Dee, I don't need you to do anything..." he trailed off, his fingers gently wrapping around Dean's hard cock. Dean shuddered at his touch, his dick twitching. Sam reached over with his free hand and opened the glove box, pulling out Dean's "secret" stash of lube.

Dean smirked, "that was supposed to be secret." Sam laughed lightly, "Dean, you're terrible at keeping secrets." The older hunter was completely unsure of logistics of having sex with another man. "Sam... I have no idea what I'm doing. What if something happens, what if I don't like it, what if things change between us, what if I do something wrong, what if something happens to you, I can't live without you and if something happened I'd be destroyed and -" Sam cut him off, "Dean!" he snapped, trying to stop his brother's incessant rambling, "stop. I'll show you. Everything is fine. We're fine, and we'll always be fine," Sam demanded, but Dean didn't buy it. Instead of arguing he just nodded, and his younger brother pulled him into a kiss. Sam opened the cap of the small bottle and squirted some of the lube into his hand, placing the bottle between his bent knee so it could warm up while he worked on Dean's cock. He pulled him into a kiss, his hand slipping over the head of Dean's dick, swirling his wrist to properly coat his length with lube. Dean moaned lightly, gently biting Sam's bottom lip, sending Sam into hyperdrive. He began switching between stroking his shaft and focusing on his head, a slow and steady rhythm that drove Dean crazy. Dean felt disgusted with himself, but he also felt his heart swell with adoration for Sam. He was fucked up, but that wasn't new to him. He panted against Sam's lips, thrusting his hips up and down in time with Sam's pumps. His cock was so hard that it ached, begging for release. "Sam... fuck" Dean groaned, bucking wildly into Sam's hand. But Sam wasn't done with him yet, and it was too early to allow him to finish. He released his dick, causing Dean made an unsatisfied noise, and pulled out the bottle of lube. "I want you to bend up your knees so your feet are on the seat behind my back," Sam commanded, scooting over to make more room for Dean to move.

Dean did as he was told, unsure and excited, his cheeks burned red as he moved into position. He was undeniably nervous, and also fiercely embarrassed about being so bare in front of Sam. He looked at his younger brother's face hoping to see that he was also still unsure, but all he saw was determination and an animalistic glint in his eyes. He pulled Dean closer by his thighs, then squeezed a bit more lube onto his hand. He rubbed some on his own dick before lowering his hand to Dean's ass. He slowly brushed his finger around Dean's rim. "Sammy..." he moaned, inching his hips closer to Sam, wanting more. Sam slid a finger inside, bending his finger slightly in an attempt to hit Dean's prostate. "FUCK," Dean nearly shouted, his voice quivering with pleasure, hips rocking against Sam's hand. Sam smirked, pumping his finger inside of Dean a few times before inserting another. Due to Dean's inexperience with men Sam wanted to make sure he was totally prepped, especially because Sam had a pretty huge cock. The older hunter was gently mumbling a string obscenities, and in that moment he forgot all about the taboo nature of their act. All he cared about was Sam, who was now three fingers deep in ass. Dean's dick was was so hard that it was dripping, practically pulsating. Sam had a grip on his own cock, pumping himself in time with his other hand - the position was a bit awkward but he didn't care. "Are you ready?" Sam practically purred, making Dean's heart skip a beat. "Y-Yes," Dean choked out, lifting his hips to allow Sam to enter him. Sam pulled Dean fully into his lap. Dean rested on his knees, raised above Sam's hips as he positioned his cock underneath him. "I want you to lower yourself so you can go at your own speed," Sam whispered in his ear, goosebumps breaking out across the older hunter's neck.

Dean slowly began to lower his hips, the tip of Sam's cock entering him. The burn was intense but his lust gave him the strength to continue. He winced, his eyes tearing, but he worked through the pain until he completely engulfed Sam's dick. Sam held Dean's hips, rocking his hips a bit. "Are you okay?" he asked his older brother, not wanting to hurt him. Dean nodded, determined, and began to raise back up, using his toes for leverage. Once he was almost completely at the tip of Sam's dick he lowered back down, slowly working up a rhythm. The pleasure was unlike anything he had ever felt. He let a low moan escape his lips each time he came down on Sam's cock, allowing his head to drop between Sam's shoulder and his neck, his humid breath warming his skin. "Fuck, Dean... So tight... So perfect," he said gently in Dean's ear, grunting as his breath crossed his skin. Dean kissed Sam's neck, lightly sucking on his skin, rocking his hips in circles as Sam took over thrusting. "Fuck me, Sam, want you to come in me," he groaned, his breath hot across Sam's skin. Suddenly, Sam began moving, laying Dean back across the seat, his cock never leaving his tight ass. Sam used his knees as leverage to continue pumping into Dean, Dean's legs pressed into Sam's sides, reduced to a puddle of moans and curses. "Fuck, Sam - fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm so close," Dean nearly whined, pleasure so strong that he felt like his heart would burst. Sam moaned at his words, gripping Dean's cock and pumping it in time with his thrusts. He started thrusting roughly, hitting Dean's prostate on each pump and causing the older man to gasp. "That's it, I want you to finish." At Sam's command Dean lost control, he was practically whimpering with overwhelming pleasure, reaching his peak, streaks of come warm against Sam's abs.

Sam thrusted hard into Dean's pulsating entrance, "Dean, I'm gonna come... Gonna come for you..." he groaned, letting himself orgasm into him, filling him from the inside. Sam stayed poised for a few moments, panting and pressed up against Dean's sweaty form. Dean was so drained and blissed out that he seemed almost incoherent. They didn't speak, didn't move, didn't kiss - just held each other. After a while Sam couldn't help but smile to himself. "I love you, Dee," he whispered into his lovers ear, lightly kissing him on the lips before pushing himself up into a sitting position. Sam used his discarded shirt to wipe off his stomach, and then they helped each other get redressed - Sam's shirt was discarded into the back seat to be collected tomorrow. Silently, they both made their way to Dean's bed, where they quickly fell asleep.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A far away sound was coaxing Dean awake, and he tried his hardest to ignore it. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to deal with the chill soaking through to his bones. No, he wanted to rest.

Dean...

Someone was calling his name. It was Sam. Dean's eyes snapped open. He was still sitting on the freezing tiles in the bathroom, his face plastered against the toilet. He blinked a few times, contemplating whether he was imagining the voice or not. He decided to close his eyes, give in to the fatigue clouding his mind. But then there it was again. "Dean," the voice was weak and strained. Sam! Dean lifted his head up, his brain flashing through the events of the past few days. Sam was sick and needed him. He unsteadily stood up - having to grip on to the stall's wall to avoid falling over - flushed the toilet, and walked over to the row of sinks. He swished his mouth out with water followed by the mouthwash that was sitting on the counter. It stung his mouth but it was refreshing. He peeked at himself in the mirror, almost jumping when he saw the monstrosity staring back at him. His eyes were encircled with dark bags, pale skin sweaty and blotchy. His hair stuck up in every direction. Dean did his best to smooth it down with some water. Luckily the bedroom was dark and he hoped Sam wouldn't notice how shitty he looked. He let out a sick groan and mentally prepared himself for the walk back to the bedroom, weaving on his feet. While he wanted nothing more than to curl up and die on the bathroom floor, he knew that Sam needed help, and that allowed him to walk hastily back to their room.

Dean walked through the door, squinting his eyes to try to see his brother through the darkness. "Sam?" he whispered, surprised at how frail his voice sounded. "Where did you go?" Sam asked, looking up from under the blankets. Dean sighed, "I just had to take a piss and then I took a pit stop in the library," he lied, taking a few more steps into the room, "are you alright?" He sat down at the corner of the bed, letting his hand rest on Sam's foot over the blanket. "I don't feel good, Dee," Sam shuddered, voice muffled by his pillow. "I know, baby," Dean whispered, rubbing Sam's leg, hoping to comfort him, "are you going to be sick?" Sam shrugged, pulling the blanket over his head, curling up into a ball. Dean glanced at the clock; 6:13 am. Sam was due for his next dose of Tylenol but he didn't want to give it to him if he was going to throw it up. His younger brother was forming complete sentences and he wasn't shivering as violently as he was before so Dean took that as a good sign. He scooted up the bed so that he was sitting next to Sam on the edge of the bed. He lightly rubbed Sam's back, slowly pulling back the blanket to get a better look at his younger brother.

His hair was a mess and his eyes looked dull and bleary, but his face wasn't as flushed as it was before. Dean reached out to touch his forehead - his fever was definitely dropping. It must have been breaking while they were on their way home from the hunt. Dean was relieved that they were likely over the worst part of Sam's illness. Ever since they were kids Dean was always there to help Sam when he was sick. Their dad was always preoccupied with hunts and alcohol, revenge driving him to work himself to the bone. It wasn't uncommon for John to shrug off his sons when they complained about a stuffy nose or upset stomach. 'Suck it up, be a man,' seemed to be his mantra, followed by telling his elementary aged sons to stop bitching. He was never one to play the role of worried, sensitive dad. Luckily Dean was always there to pick up the pieces, regardless of what he was going through himself. He found it almost therapeutic to help someone else instead of trying to clean up his own messes. Building a wall and burying his problems deep inside was easier than being honest and having to come face to face with his demons. And the whiskey always did a wonderful job of singing him to sleep.

Sam started stirring again, pushing himself up against the headboard. Dean helped him up, pulling the blanket up to his chest. "Gonna throw up," the younger hunter choked out, covering his face with his hands. Dean grabbed the garbage can off the floor, placing it in Sam's lap. Sam gripped the garbage can, panting, and pushed his hair away from his face. Dean repositioned himself to be at Sam's side. He pushed his brother's hair back, soothingly brushing his fingertips over his brother's scalp. Sam instantly vomited over the garbage can, a rush of liquid splashing against the metal bottom. Dean squeezed his eyes closed, trying to ignore the way his stomach tensed up. Sam vomited a few more times but he was finished pretty quickly. His body was so tired that it didn't even have the energy to waste it's time gagging and spluttering. Dean took the can from him as soon as he was done, placing it on the ground. He sat on the bed next to his brother, grabbing the water bottle off the nightstand. He handed it to Sam, "drink." Sam took the cap off and took a few small sips before closing the bottle and putting it down on the bed. "Are you ready for me to take the can away or do you think you'll need it again soon?" he asked, motioning towards the garbage can. "Take it," Sam whimpered, curling back up under the blanket. Dean nodded, grabbing it by the edge, holding it as far away from his face as he possibly could. He speed walked to the nearest bathroom and dumped it out into the first toilet he caught sight of. Squeezing his eyes shut he hit the flusher with his foot. Then he practically threw the garbage can into the shower to wash it out - he didn't have the patience to wash it out in the sink. He turned the shower on as hot as he could and let it fill the can, at which point he dumped it out. Rinse and repeat. Dean grabbed the waste basket by the edge again and waved it back and forth, trying to dry it off as well as he could without needing to put his hand inside of it.

Groaning, Dean speed walked back to the bedroom. Sam is so fucking lucky that I love him so much, he complained to himself in his head, when he gets better he fucking owes me one. He sighed, placing the can back on the floor next to Sam, his head swirling with dizziness and his legs threatening to give out. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands. "Dean?" Sam asked in a small voice, touching his brother's back. "Holy shit Dean, you're burning up," Sam began to sit up. "I'm fine, Sam," the elder hunter brushed away his brother's hand, grabbing the bottle of tylenol. He opened it and handed three to Sam, taking out four for himself. "Just a headache, I'll live," he muttered, swallowing down the pills and handing the water bottle back to Sam. "Take these, you're overdue." Sam listened, popping the pills in his mouth and taking them as instructed. "Come on, lay down," Sam invited, pulling the blanket back for Dean. Dean laid down next to Sam big spoon style. Sam was still shaking but his body temperature seemed to be evening out. "Dean, if you're sick can you please just tell me?" Sam looked up at him with his best puppy eye routine. Dean couldn't help but smile. "Sammy, I'm fine, try to sleep. You won't get better until you sleep and I'm tired of taking care of your sorry ass," he joked, lightly kissing the younger hunter. Sam rolled over to face Dean fully, kissing him harder, their bodies pressed against each other. "I'm not kidding, baby. Sleep. Now." Dean closed his eyes to accentuate his point. Sam smirked, cuddling into dean and letting his head rest on his brothers chest. They fell asleep listening to each other's heart beat.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Dean woke up Sam wasn't in bed. He glanced at the nightstand; 2:48 pm. He had slept literally all day. He tried to push himself and winced, feeling just how utterly soaked in sweat he was. He needed to get up, take a shower, and put on new clothes. He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, his head felt heavy and his vision turned grey. For a moment he thought he might pass out, but after a few seconds he started to regain his strength and he mentally prepared himself to walk. Moving in general made his whole body scream with pain, his stomach churning and his head threatening to explode if he took a single step. Dean braced a hand on the nightstand and slowly pulled himself up. He wavered on his feet, stretching out his left hand to hold himself up against the wall. His vision was swimming and it sounded like he was underwater. He took a few more steps and made it to the doorway, leaning against the door, his hands holding onto both sides of the door jamb. He looked out into the hallway, hoping to see Sam there, but he wasn't. "Sam," Dean tried to call out to his brother but his voice was betraying him and all he made a small squeak. He cleared his throat, "Sam!" This time he was able to properly yell, but he used up all of his energy. His vision went black and he felt himself fall onto the ground.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 _Dean..._

 _Dean!_

There was that fucking voice again. Why wouldn't it leave him alone? Why was it so set on not letting him rest? Dean dismissed the voice and gave back into the darkness, allowing it to engulf him. Dean! Wake up! You're scaring me! the voice was pleading with him now, and he felt as if he was being shaken. Slowly Dean began to snap out of it, returning to reality.

It came back all at once. His dream land and the darkness instantly vanished, leaving him feeling sick and weak. He groaned pitifully, attempting to open his eyes. "Dean!" Sam barked, a cold hand being pressed against his forehead. Dean made a pathetic attempt to shoo his hand away. "S'op," he mumbled, words not cooperating. "'M r'igh 'ere," he opened his eyes slightly and saw Sam's face. He looked terrified. "Wha' hap'nd?" he inquired, trying to figure out why he was on the ground. He started to attempt to push himself up, but Sam help him down. Dean was so weak that Sam's gentle hand on his shoulder was enough to hold him in place. "You... fainted," Sam hesitated on the word 'fainted,' wanting to save Dean from any embarrassment, but he was too worried to care about his pride. "Dean, you're burning up and you're dehydrated. I knew you were sick. Why didn't you tell me?" he tried to keep his words gentle but Dean could hear a hard edge. "Look who's a kettle calling a black pot..." Dean said, totally sure that he got that saying correct. "Dean..." Sam started but Dean cut him off, "shut up. You know what I meant." Dean winced, overpowering Sam's loose grip on his shoulder so he could sit up. His head started swimming again and he let out a sick whimper, leaning his head against his lovers shoulder. "Sam... Can we please go back to bed..." he pleaded, unable to stand on his own. Sam ran his hand over the back of his brother's head, looping his arms around Dean's waist and helping him up. Once he was standing the older hunter was hit with a wave of nausea. He doubled over and gagged, silently happy that he was dehydrated since he had nothing in his stomach to throw up. "Are you alright?!" Sam practically yelled, nervous and unsure how to help. Dean almost never got sick, but when he did it was bad. He's almost positive that he's only seen Dean sick enough where he couldn't care for himself three times - when he needed his appendix out, when he had his heart attack, and when the mark was ravaging his body. Usually when Dean shows any signs of sickness he locks himself away for a few days, and then once he emerges he's good as new, almost like a caterpillar cocooning itself into a butterfly. Sam halfway dragged Dean to the bed, helping him sit down on the edge. "I know you feel like shit but you need to drink water," Sam said gently, giving Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Dean groaned, falling backwards against the mattress.


End file.
